


Learning Lullabies

by jackabelle73



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackabelle73/pseuds/jackabelle73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shelby didn't think it would be like this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Glee Family Fic Week on Tumblr. I decided to focus on a family that isn't shown often on the show and rarely used in fics

She'd always loved the old fashioned clock on her living room mantel. Its steady reliable clicks and hourly chimes had grounded her during her brief times at home. She was never home very long, some weeks it seemed she only came home to eat a microwave dinner and sleep before rushing off again the next morning. But she'd had to disable the venerable timepiece, because the apartment's new tenant didn't appreciate it as she did.  


Passing by it again, its hands frozen at 10:24, she kept her own large hand on a small back, stroking up down up down, a rote movement now. Bare feet brushed across the carpet on yet another circuit of the living room. Little hitching breaths from the bundle were all that remained of the latest meltdown. Forcibly ejected from the only home she'd ever known and thrust into a world of light and sound and strange touches, deprived of the constant source of food she'd been accustomed to—no wonder babies cried all the time. At least, that's what Shelby read in the first chapter of a baby book she'd managed to skim before Beth had wailed out her displeasure with…something. She still wasn't sure what caused that first torrent of sobbing, or the second, or any of the others that followed. She'd offered bottles, fumbled through diaper changes, and tried singing to her, asking herself why a woman who'd surrounded herself with music her entire life didn't know a single lullaby. She didn't think "Bohemian Rhapsody" counted, but that's what she found herself singing to Beth in the dark hours of the night, while her eyes burned and her back ached and surely they were the only ones awake other than emergency room staff.

She leaned back a bit now despite further protests from her lower back and tried to get a look at Beth's face. Tear streaked and puffy, but her wet lashes brushed her round cheeks and she didn't move aside from shuddering breaths and a slight sucking motion of her mouth.

Moving slowly, Shelby let her never-ending path lead her to the recliner and gingerly sat down on the cushion edge, breathing a sigh of relief when her tiny cargo stayed quiet. Carefully, she slid back a little further, nearly groaning out loud as her back pressed against the chair and was supported for the first time in hours. She eyed the small human curled against her chest like a frog and slowly, slowly leaned over to pull the lever that would bring her feet up, not taking her gaze off Beth's face. A hiccup made her freeze with the foot rest halfway up, straining her leg and stomach muscles to stop its motion, while not moving Beth at all. Shelby waited, but there were no further signs of waking, so she let herself breathe again and very slowly—muscles screaming in protest—let the foot rest continue raising. Slowly.

When it was finally up, she started to recognize and release the tension in individual muscle groups one at a time, using techniques learned long ago in beginning acting classes. Acknowledge the source of stress, then let it go. Just breathe it out. She side-eyed the slumbering bundle in the crook of her left arm. Source of stress acknowledged. She started at her toes and worked her way up, absolving her legs of responsibility for keeping her upright, and moving. Her hips and back she let sag into the heaven-sent pillowy softness below her. God bless La-Z-Boy.

She hit a snag when she reached her left arm. She couldn't exactly relax all tension in that limb, as it was keeping Beth in place against her chest. She looked across the room, wondering why she hadn't thought to get a pillow from the couch before she sat down. She could have used it to support her holding arm. She also could have turned the lights off before sitting, but in truth, she hadn't expected Beth to stay asleep. No help for it…nothing could entice her to get up from this chair now that she'd relaxed for the first time in over twenty hours. Her eyes closed, sinking into darkness and so close to that oblivion she craved like nothing before in her life, ever….and the soft package she held stiffened, shuddered, and let loose with a head-splitting wail.

Numerous diaper changes, laps of the living room, and attempts at feeding later—said attempts resulting in Beth choking, coughing, and crying even harder—a loud knocking at the door eventually penetrated Shelby's coma-like slumber. She managed to get herself upright from the couch where she'd collapsed, her right hand supporting Beth's head. Predictably, the baby began to cry against her shoulder. She was going to kill whoever that was at the door. She was going to use the last of her strength to murder them, slowly and painfully, and not even bother to hide the body. She'd just call 911 and let them come and take her away…at least in prison she'd be able to sleep.

And Beth….she regarded the sobbing infant. Maybe she wouldn't commit murder just yet. She was, however, going to give the intruder a piece of her mind and then put a sign on the door informing all visitors, whether friend, foe, salesman, Mormon, or political activist that they knocked at risk of their own life.

She wrenched the door open to be faced with a fortyish woman, hand raised to knock again, holding a black canvas bag and a plastic bag with the Bye Bye Baby logo in the other hand.

"What?" Shelby didn't care how rude she sounded at this point.

"Good morning," the newcomer began, smiling and speaking loudly enough to carry over Beth's cries. It was morning again? "I'm Natalie from the Parent's 911 service." Shelby simply stared at her. "You called the agency at—" she pulled a slip of paper from her pocket to read it—"exactly 3:14 this morning. You said you'd just adopted a newborn and could use some help?" Shelby blinked, trying to replay the woman's words in her head and make sense of them. "Do you remember calling?"

She shook her head slowly, afraid to move it any faster because right now she had what felt like the worst hangover of her life, and she was sure she hadn't been drinking. Well, pretty sure.

"May I come in?" Mutely, Shelby stood aside and let the woman pass, bouncing Beth a bit in a futile attempt to appease her.

The visitor—what was her name again?—regarded the dim living room, assessing the full and empty baby bottles, the crib still in its box against the wall, boxes and bags of other baby paraphernalia tossed carelessly. Throw blankets spilled over the back of the couch and piled themselves abandoned on the floor. Tissues littered the top of the coffee table. The curtains were drawn, shutting out the morning light. Only lamps on low provided a bit of weak illumination, casting the wreckage in shadow. She turned back to Shelby, who was still robotically stroking Beth's back.

"When's the last time you slept?" she asked sympathetically.

She tried to answer, but she really wasn't sure and the language center of her brain seemed strangely disconnected from her mouth.

"What's your baby's name?"

"Beth," she managed.

"I see the crib's not set up yet, so where is Beth sleeping?"

Shelby gestured to herself, to the baby still against her chest, whose crying had tapered off to hiccuping whimpers again.

"I see," the woman said with the air of one who's seen it all. "May I hold her?" Without really thinking about it, she handed her baby over, still remembering to support Beth's head till the other woman got her own hand under the fragile curve of skull. The newcomer supported Beth easily in one arm and reached behind Shelby to close the door. She hadn't realized it was still open. Her eyes blinked and then had trouble un-blinking. She heard the click of the lock before a voice asked, "Where's your bedroom?"

She pointed vaguely down the hallway, which looked very far away through her half-open eyes, though it seemed that in another life she'd frequently complained about the small size of her apartment. She felt a hand on her back, pushing her gently in the direction of the hall, and that same voice saying something about a nap and you'll feel better. Her bed was still impeccably made from before…before something. She couldn't remember. Just before. Her hands sank into the heavenly give of the mattress, and she barely managed to crawl far enough up to keep her feet from hanging off the edge, before she surrendered face first into the comforter and welcomed the dark.

She woke suddenly with something niggling at the back of her mind, something she was supposed to do or remember, but it was behind a mountain of jumbled boxes full of thoughts and she couldn't get to it. She sat up slowly, a blanket sliding down her back and a sour smell hit her nose. She looked around, then down at herself for the source and she found a whitish stain on her dark shirt.

Beth!

Her feet hit the floor and she took all of two steps toward the door before the blanket tangled around her legs, causing her to stumble. Cursing, she unwound herself and made it to her bedroom door, turning the knob with uncoordinated fingers and only succeeding in opening it on the second try. She staggered down the hall, muscles still feeling stale from sleep and joints trying to creak into place, till she got to the living room and looked around for her baby.

A strange woman sat on the couch, cradling Beth in her arms and feeding her a bottle. She looked up and smiled at Shelby. "Good morning, or afternoon actually. Do you feel better?"

"Who are you?" was all she managed in response.

"Natalie. You called my agency and asked for help. I'm an NCS, a Newborn Care Specialist. I arrived this morning." She studied her for a moment. "You don't remember?"

"No." Shelby managed to get to the ottoman and sit, looking at her baby. Beth was sucking contentedly on her bottle and seemed to be alright. "What exactly happened this morning?"

Natalie adjusted the bottle a bit, checking the baby before she responded. "All I know is that my agency called me at 7:00 am this morning, said you'd left a message in the middle of the night that you'd just adopted a baby and needed help adapting to life with her. I got here just before 9:00 I guess, and you looked beyond bushed. You couldn't even tell me when you'd last slept, so I took Beth and steered you into your bedroom. And then little Beth and I kept each other company till you came out just now."

"So you're telling me that a complete stranger showed up at my door, and I just handed her my baby and left her alone with her for…" She leaned back to see the clock in the kitchen, visible over the bar. "Five hours?" Natalie nodded.

"I do have references, if you'd like to check them. You didn't seem in any condition to do so when I arrived."

"I handed my baby to a stranger and walked away," Shelby repeated to herself. She couldn't breathe suddenly and put her head down on her knees. "I'm the worst mother in the world," she mumbled into her jeans, which smelled rather suspicious. She raised her head. "Maybe I'm not ready for this."

"Stop that," Natalie said firmly, setting the bottle down and tossing a white cloth over her shoulder, raising Beth up there and patting her on the back with small, light taps. All her movements looked so easy and practiced. For the first time, Shelby noticed that Beth was wrapped tightly in a light green blanket, resembling a butterfly in its cocoon.

"You're not a bad mother," Natalie continued as she patted. "You're an inexperienced mother. As for being ready, no one is ready for parenthood. No one. Not even the parents who have nine months to anticipate and prepare for it before their baby is born. My agency said something about this adoption happening quickly?"

"Yes. I didn't know when I woke up that morning that I'd be coming home with a baby. It just…..it's a long story," she concluded, unable to contemplate giving a full account at the moment.

"So you had zero time to prepare, either emotionally or in terms of buying the things you'd need for a baby."

She shook her head. "No. I wanted her, more than anything, but I didn't think it would be like this."

"No one ever does. The good news is, you can learn." A soft burp issued from Beth, and she smiled, carefully lowering the baby back into the crook of her arm and wiping her mouth with the cloth. Beth's eyes were closed, and Shelby reached out automatically to stroke over the downy hair.

"How did you get her to take the bottle so easily? Every time I tried, she would cough and cry."

"You bought stage three nipples," Natalie answered gently. "At her age, she needs a stage one. The milk was coming out too fast and she couldn't keep up, that's why she coughed."

It took a moment for this new information to seep into her still sleep-addled brain. "There are different kinds? Could they make it any more complicated? I mean, didn't babies survive just fine before different stages of nipples were invented?"

The other woman laughed softly. "Yes they did. But I promise, you can learn everything you need to know and a couple months from now this will all be routine to you. Tell you what, why don't you go get cleaned up, put on some fresh clothes and eat something, and then we'll get started on that."

She started to hum to Beth, swaying slightly with the music. Shelby watched them for a moment, not wanting to look away even though Natalie's suggestion of a shower and food sounded very appealing. This was the scene she'd pictured when she'd signed the adoption papers, but with herself holding the baby of course.

"May I?" she asked, holding her arms out. The caregiver smiled.

"Of course. She's your baby." She draped the cloth over Shelby's shoulder and handed Beth to her before saying, "if you've got her for a moment, I'll take a quick bathroom break."

Shelby only nodded, unwilling to take her eyes off her baby's face. Her baby. Hers. What had happened to her life in the last three days? How had she gone from the tyrannical show choir director who made rival singers—and her own—quake with fear, to being a willing slave to the very small tyrant she now held? She looked around the room, realized that it had been cleaned up while she was asleep, and tried to imagine how her apartment would change as she altered it for Beth. How her life would change, my God.

She looked back at Beth again, who didn't seem to be such a tyrant at the moment. She slumbered on in blissful ignorance of her mother's turmoil, unaware that she'd been given into the hands of a woman who didn't have a clue what to do with a baby. Her ignorance was probably a good thing, on both counts. Maybe, by the time Beth grew old enough to actually notice these things, maybe by then Shelby would be better at faking her way through parenthood. She bent to place a very light kiss on her forehead, and breathed in her unique baby scent.

She heard Natalie come back in the room, and asked softly without looking up, "What was that song you were humming?"

"Hushabye Mountain."

She looked up, finally, holding Beth closer. "Will you teach it to me?"


End file.
